


On Our Way to Fall

by carolinecrane



Series: traveling shoes [4]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-15
Updated: 2010-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-13 05:39:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kurt and Puck just try to find a little time alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Our Way to Fall

**Author's Note:**

> With many thanks to Jen for the beta. All remaining mistakes are on me.

It starts on Saturday, right before the game. It’s totally Kurt’s fault, too, and Puck would be pissed if he wasn’t benched for another week for missing practices while he was in Juvie.

But he’s benched, even though he’s been at practice all fucking week in spite of his detentions, because Coach Beiste is trying to make some kind of statement or whatever. So when Kurt drags him under the bleachers while the rest of the team’s still in the locker room getting all hyped up to kick ass on the field, Puck doesn’t complain about his boyfriend distracting him when he’s supposed to be focusing on football.

His _boyfriend_. Like that’s ever going to stop being weird.

So yeah, his boyfriend drags him under the bleachers before the game, and Puck figures he just wants to make out a little, because they didn’t get much of a chance the night before, what with the whole misunderstanding about how much Puck wants in Kurt’s skinny jeans.

But instead of kissing him, Kurt smoothes his fingers down the front of Puck’s jersey and turns a little pink and says, “So you never did tell me what you meant by a ‘quickie in my closet’.”

At first Puck thinks he’s asking what a quickie is, and that’s just dumb, because yeah, Kurt’s a virgin, but come _on_. Then he sees Kurt’s blush spreading and realizes what he’s asking, and now Puck’s hard and he doesn’t even have the mindless violence of four quarters on the field to distract him from how bad he wants to _show_ Kurt what he meant.

But hey, he’s down with a little foreplay, even if he can’t follow through right now. So he grins and leans in, pressing his mouth right up against the soft skin just under Kurt’s ear. He lets his tongue slide along Kurt’s skin, just enough to get it wet, then he pulls back a little and huffs a hot breath against the spot where his tongue was a second ago. Kurt’s whole body shudders right on cue, and Puck lets out a throaty laugh against his ear.

“Baby, those jeans of yours were so tight I could _see_ how bad you wanted me. I just wanted to get on my knees and suck your cock right through the fabric.”

Kurt’s breath hitches and his hands close around the front of Puck’s jersey, dragging him in for a kiss that’s so needy and intense and _wet_ that Puck’s knees actually start to give a little. He can feel Kurt’s hard-on digging into his hip, and hey, at least now they’re both going to be distracted through the whole game.

“You could come over tonight. I’ll let you see my closet,” Kurt says, and Puck can’t decide whether to laugh or cry, because seriously.

“Can’t.”

“Why?” And now Kurt’s just whining, which would be kind of funny if it wasn’t weirdly hot. Then again, Puck’s starting to think everything about Kurt’s weirdly hot.

“Don’t get mad, okay?” Puck says, and yeah, maybe not the best choice of words, considering the way Kurt tenses against him. And he gets that Kurt’s got good reason not to trust him a hundred percent or anything, but he thought after last night he’d relax a little, at least.

“Remember when your dad was in the hospital and you were freaking out about everybody having, like, prayer vigils and shit? Well, I never told you because I figured it would just piss you off more, but I went to Temple with my Nana to pray for him.”

He pauses, waiting for the inevitable bitch-fit about how Kurt has a right not to believe in God or whatever, but it never comes. He doesn’t even look pissed, really. More like surprised, maybe that Puck thought enough about him to make a special appointment with God over his dad.

“Anyway, the whole time I was in Juvie, every time I called home my mom fed me the guilt trip about how my Nana was crying all day long, how I was worrying her into an early grave and shit. So when I got out my mom made me promise I’d go to Temple with her. She likes the Saturday Shabbat service the best, but it doesn’t even get rolling until around 6:00. Kind of blows my whole night, but it makes her happy.”

“That’s...actually kind of sweet,” Kurt says, and the pink spots are back in his cheeks, so Puck figures he’s not in trouble for the whole ‘praying against your wishes’ thing.

“I could come over Sunday,” he offers, turning his grin up a couple notches and tugging Kurt a little closer, just to remind him why they’re talking about this in the first place. Except instead of going glassy-eyed and saying, “Yes, please,” Kurt sighs and closes his eyes and leans his forehead against Puck’s chest for a second before he answers.

“I promised my dad I’d balance the shop’s books on Sunday. The guys have been great about keeping the shop running while my dad’s been recuperating, but no one’s touched the finances since his heart attack. It’s going to take some time to sort them out.”

And okay, that sucks and all, but it’s no worse an excuse than going to Temple with his Nana, so Puck doesn’t try to talk him into blowing it off for another week or anything. Instead he slides a hand under Kurt’s chin and tilts his face up until Kurt’s looking him right in the eye, then he leans in and kisses him slow.

“What about Monday? I’ve got detention, but I could come over after.”

“Monday’s good,” Kurt answers, breathing the words against his mouth, and Puck’s not sure he even knows what he’s saying, because he sounds pretty distracted. “I can do Monday.”

“Good.” Puck kisses him again, harder this time, hands on Kurt’s hips to press as much of them together as he can. When he finally lets up they’re both panting and flushed, and Puck grins and takes a step backwards when Kurt tries to move in for another kiss. “You better get a move on, babe, they’re about to start without you."

For a second Kurt just looks at him, lip stuck out in a pout and man, he really wants to say fuck it to the game and Coach and probably both their careers with McKinley High Athletics and take Kurt home where he can spend the rest of the day just sucking on that bottom lip. Then Coach Sylvester blows her whistle, and Kurt’s pout shifts to a wide-eyed look of terror. He doesn’t even say goodbye before he takes off across the field, and Puck can’t blame him, because Coach Sylvester’s way scarier than the Beiste.

He shakes his head and waits until Kurt’s almost all the way across the field before he steps out from under the bleachers, sighing as he heads for the bench he’ll be warming for the rest of the afternoon.

~

They don’t see each other again until Monday, though they do trade a few texts back and forth on Sunday while Kurt’s supposed to be cooking the books at his dad’s shop and Puck’s pretending he cares enough to try to figure out his Geometry homework. And he never thought Kurt would be up for sexting, but if he’s learned anything in the past two weeks, it’s that Kurt’s full of all kinds of surprises.

Granted, he’s not as upfront about it as Santana, but that almost makes it better. The fact that he _starts_ it, though, that’s what makes it really cool.

The first time his phone beeps Puck’s lying on his bed, Geometry book open beside him and that Bob Dylan song Kurt picked out for him playing on a constant loop on his iTunes. And he doesn’t think of it as their song or anything, because it’s about fucking up a relationship, and he’s not planning to do that this time. But it’s a decent song, and it reminds him of the way Kurt kind of stood by him when everybody else in school wrote him off, so he likes it anyway.

His phone’s sitting on his nightstand, and when it beeps he reaches for it and grins at the screen when he sees Kurt's name. Then he opens the text, and yeah, Kurt could be talking about anything, but Puck’s pretty sure this is just a continuation of yesterday’s game.

_So I've been thinking about what you said._

He hits ‘reply’ and starts typing, grinning like an idiot the entire time, but whatever, not like there’s anybody around to see him.

_i talk a lot babe ur gonna hav 2 narow it down_

And yeah, the text speak will probably piss Kurt off as much as Puck pretending he doesn’t know what Kurt means, but if he wants to play games, Puck’s willing to give as good as he gets. It takes a couple minutes, but finally his phone beeps again and Puck grins and picks it up.

_I was wondering if I wore those jeans to school again on Monday how long it would take to get you to make good on your promise._

It’s not like Puck spent a lot of time thinking about Kurt before he got out of Juvie and this whole thing started. He had other stuff on his mind, and anyway he figured Kurt kind of hated him. But he’s not dead or anything, so he’s noticed Kurt’s clothes -- specifically the way his ass looks in his clothes -- and he’s almost positive he’s never seen Kurt wear the same pair of pants twice. So the fact that Kurt’s threatening to wear the same jeans to school on Monday that he just wore last Friday...he’s pretty sure that’s kind of a big deal.

Puck swallows hard at the prospect of spending a whole day watching Kurt wander around school in those jeans and hits ‘reply’ again.

_funny i dont think i made any promises_

He hits send, then chews on his lip for a second and starts a new message.

_but i def wanna see ur closet and i promise itll be worth the wait_

For awhile after that his phone just sits there on the bed next to him, refusing to cough up any new messages. Puck tries to shift his attention back to his homework, but it’s impossible to focus while he’s thinking about Kurt and those fucking jeans. He picks up his phone every minute or so, checking the display over and over until finally it beeps again.

_I already know you’re worth the wait._

Puck’s not sure how long he lies there staring at the message, but he has to turn off the screensaver so many times that the battery power display actually goes down a bar. And it’s not even a sext, not really, because there’s nothing about being wet or wanting to suck him off or even Kurt hinting around about touching himself while he thinks about Puck.

But it makes his heart pound hard against his ribcage in a way none of Santana’s sexts ever did, and when he hears his mom calling him to dinner he hits save to make sure he doesn’t accidentally delete it before he shuts his phone and sets it on his nightstand again. For awhile he just sits on the edge of his bed and looks at it, like maybe he’s expecting another text from Kurt that says _just kidding_ or something.

Only his phone doesn’t beep again, and when his mom really starts yelling Puck stands up and looks at it one more time before he walks out of the room.

~

On Monday Puck makes it all the way to Kurt’s locker without getting slushied. Kurt’s waiting for him, leaning against the lockers with his bag over his shoulder, and he’s not wearing the skinny jeans from Friday, but the jeans he _is_ wearing are almost as tight.

Puck doesn’t say anything, just grins and backs Kurt up against hard metal, holding him there with his whole body and leaning in to plant a firm kiss right on his mouth. Kurt’s hand lands on his chest, sliding under the leather jacket he picked out himself and closing around the front of Puck’s t-shirt. White, of course, because he figures if Kurt’s got some James Dean kink he hasn’t mentioned yet, the least Puck can do is look the part.

He’s got one hand planted on the locker next to Kurt’s shoulder, the other sliding down Kurt’s arm to his hand, fingers threaded together and yeah, okay, he’s holding Kurt’s hand. But everybody at school’s already seen them making out, so it’s not like a little hand-holding’s going to come as a big shock to anybody.

Besides, he hasn’t heard from Kurt since that text yesterday, so he should probably show his appreciation or whatever. And he does appreciate it; he appreciates Kurt standing by him when nobody else did, even though he had less reason than anybody at McKinley to do it. Just like he appreciates that Kurt wants to show Puck just how into this he is.

And he’s definitely into it. He pushes himself off the lockers to let Puck feel just _how_ into it he is, and yeah, those skinny jeans don’t leave anything to the imagination. He can’t tell if they’re as tight as the ones from Friday, so Puck pulls his hand away from the locker to grip Kurt’s hip, angling his ass away from the lockers enough to slide a hand into his back pocket.

So okay, they’re not _quite_ as tight as Friday, but it’s pretty close. Puck laughs against his mouth and squeezes Kurt’s ass, then laughs again when Kurt gasps and kind of jerks forward. The hand on Puck’s chest twists hard around his shirt, and that’s going to leave a whole mess of wrinkles, but it’s not like Puck cares about his shirt when Kurt’s practically dry fucking him in the hallway.

Things are going to get messy pretty quick, though, and Puck has half a mind to drag Kurt into the nearest classroom and make good on that promise about sucking him off through his jeans after all. Which is exactly what Kurt was after when he put on those pants this morning, Puck realizes. He’s _trying_ to make Puck lose it, to turn him on enough to make him forget why he’s making himself wait for the first time in his life for something Kurt’s freely offering.

Scratch that: Kurt’s practically _begging_ him to take it, and maybe holding out on him makes Puck a lousy boyfriend. Before he can decide somebody clears their throat right up next to them, and Puck drags his mouth away from Kurt’s long enough to catch sight of Mercedes. She’s wearing an expression that makes her look like she’s trying to beat out Kurt for the Best Bitchface crown, and when he quirks an eyebrow at her she just rolls her eyes and gestures toward the lockers.

“Do you mind?”

The old Puck would have said, “Yeah,” and gone right back to doing whatever he was doing, but she _is_ Kurt’s girl, even if they’re not exactly hanging out much these days. So he checks the urge to growl at her and straightens up, using the hand that’s still wrapped around Kurt’s to pull him away from the lockers.

“Knock yourself out,” he says, then he smirks and slides an arm around Kurt’s shoulders to drag him down the hall.

They’re halfway to Kurt’s first period class when Puck sees some of the guys from the team bearing down on them, and he catches a flash of bright red in Azimio’s freakishly large paw that can only mean one thing. He knows what’s coming, knows now that the white t-shirt was a mistake even if the jacket’s slushie-proof. But he made Kurt a promise, and he’s planning to keep it.

“Stay here,” he says, letting go of Kurt and raising an eyebrow when Kurt opens his mouth to argue.

He turns back in time to see Azimio changing direction, like he’s planning to sidestep Puck and go for Kurt instead. So Puck steps right into his path, and he could end this right now with a carefully aimed punch, but then he’d have another whole week of detention to deal with and he’s got _plans_ for his week.

“You closet cases need to toss shit at somebody, it’s going to be me,” he says, arms crossed over his chest and yeah, it’s not going to help his shirt, but whatever. “Hummel’s off limits from now on, got it?”

“That’s pretty cute, Puckerman, sticking up for your boyfriend like that,” Azimio says. He glances over his shoulder at the other guys, laughing with them for a second and it would be so easy to grab the slushie and dump it right over Azimio’s giant head, but he’s trying to make a point here.

“Jealous?” Puck asks, quirking an eyebrow and smirking at him. Then Azimio hits him full in the face with a cherry slushie, and he gasps at the cold and runs a hand over his eyes.

“Have it your way, dude,” Azimio says, then he steps out of the way and one of the other guys hits him with a fucking blue one.

There’s slushie running down his chest and his face, in his mohawk and he’s pretty sure he even got some up his nose. It’s all over his jacket and soaked into his shirt, running down his jeans and hey, at least he’s not hard anymore.

A few of the guys shove him as they pass, and he wipes slushie out of his eyes for the second time and looks around to make sure Kurt’s out of the line of fire. Because slushies are one thing, but they’ve been checking him hard in practice every chance they get, and he’s seen Karofsky and Azimio send Kurt flying into the lockers more than once. Hell, he’s done it too, but he’s not planning to let it happen again on his watch.

He doesn’t see Kurt in the crowd gathered around them, and for a second he panics, thinking maybe the guys dragged him away to toss him in the dumpster, or worse. But once they’re gone Kurt steps out from the classroom doorway closest to Puck, stopping in front of him and reaching up to run a finger across the icy mess on Puck’s cheek.

Then he pulls his finger away and slides it between his lips, sucking slushie off his finger and just _watching_ Puck the whole time and it’s worth a hundred slushies – a _million_ – to watch Kurt standing in the hallway in a pair of tight jeans, cheeks flushed and fellating his own goddamn finger like he’s daring Puck to do something about it.

“You’re right,” Kurt says, his finger leaving his mouth with a wet pop that goes straight to Puck’s dick, and so much for the slushie bath helping him calm down. “The blue ones do taste terrible.”

Puck laughs and doesn’t pull Kurt into a kiss, because the whole point is to keep Kurt’s wardrobe intact. But he lets Kurt steer him toward the girls’ bathroom, and he lets Kurt help him clean up, and when Kurt produces a clean shirt from his bag Puck doesn’t even ask why he’s been carrying around a change of clothes.

He has a feeling Kurt doesn’t have any extra pants in his bag, though, and even if he did, it’s not like Puck’s going to fit in Kurt’s pants. So he’s stuck wearing damp, sticky jeans all day, and he knows from experience that even once they dry out they’re going to be crusty and uncomfortable.

“Turn around,” he says, then he reaches for his fly.

“Why?” Kurt asks, arching one carefully manicured eyebrow in challenge and Puck doesn’t bother trying not to laugh.

And hey, it’s a valid question, because it’s not like they both don’t know what’s going to happen when Puck shows up at Kurt’s house after detention. Even with his dad right upstairs, Puck knows he can’t hold off much longer, and neither can Kurt, by the looks of things.

Besides, it’s not like Kurt wasn’t on the football team for, like, a minute, so he’s probably already seen what Puck has to offer.

“You want a pregame show, suit yourself,” he says, then he reaches for some paper towels and drops trou.

He only pushes his jeans down far enough to get at the damp, sticky skin just below his waistband, but it’s far enough for Kurt to see that he went commando this morning. He hears the weird hitching noise Kurt makes and grins, but he doesn’t look up to see Kurt watching. He _knows_ Kurt’s watching, so he takes his time turning around, letting his jeans slide a little further down his ass, just to make sure Kurt gets his money’s worth.

It doesn’t make him a tease or anything. For one thing, he’s planning to follow through just as soon as he gets Kurt alone, and anyway, Kurt’s the one who wanted to watch. So it’s his own fault he’s going to spend the whole day thinking about Puck’s ass. Puck’s going to spend the whole day thinking about Kurt’s dick pressing against his skinny jeans, so he figures they’re even.

He takes his time tugging his jeans up again, making a face at the press of cold, damp denim as he zips his fly back up. When he’s done he reaches for Kurt’s spare shirt, pulling it over his head before he eases back into his jacket. And he has to hand it to Kurt; the leather really does hold up against the slushie, and the black t-shirt Kurt brought him looks even better than the white one Puck started out with.

He balls up his old t-shirt and tosses it in the trash, because there’s no getting that thing clean, then he turns to look at Kurt. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, hard, like he’s trying to hold himself together. And Puck really, _really_ wants to take him apart, but they’ve got even less time now than they did before he got hit with a double slushie.

“Enjoy the show?” Puck asks, taking a few steps forward and easing Kurt’s arms away from his chest to pull him close. Kurt blushes and locks eyes with Puck’s mouth instead of meeting his gaze, but his arms slide around Puck’s waist, then one hand slides down Puck’s back to cup his ass.

“It was a little…brief.”

“That was just the preview,” Puck says, leaning in to breathe the words against Kurt’s lips. “Your dad gonna be there when I come over tonight?”

“Probably,” Kurt answers, voice catching a little when Puck brushes their lips together. “But he respects…my privacy.”

Puck doesn’t believe that for a second, but he doesn’t call Kurt on it. Kurt’s hand is still on his ass, not moving or anything, but it’s the first time Kurt’s been brave enough to touch him below the waist, so Puck’s not complaining. He’s about two seconds away from dragging Kurt into one of the bathroom stalls and giving him an extended preview when the bell rings, and he growls against Kurt’s mouth and pulls away.

“If I’m late I’ll get another detention.”

Kurt looks like he thinks it’s kind of worth it, and Puck’s right there with him, but before he gets a chance to say so Kurt’s easing out of his grip and pulling himself back together.

“You better not get detention for Thursday,” Kurt says, eyes flashing for a second and seriously, how the hell is he supposed to pay attention in Geometry when Kurt says stuff like that? Then Kurt blinks and flushes again, his mouth curving into a little smile as he looks up at Puck from under his eyelashes. “I never did say thank you for the rescue.”

“Least I can do, babe,” Puck says. He laughs and slides an arm around Kurt’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to the side of his head as he drags him back into the hall.

~

The rest of the day is slushie-free, which is lucky, because he’s out of spare shirts. Some of the guys stare at him extra-hard when they catch sight of him in the hall, but it’s not like he’s scared of any of those assholes. Truth is, Glee’s a little scarier, mostly because he expected _his_ friends to be douches about him going gay, but he figured Kurt’s friends would be cool about it.

He assumes they are right up until they walk into the choir room and everybody shuts up all at the same time. Puck’s never been a subtle kind of guy -- neither has Kurt, now that he thinks about it -- but he knows when somebody’s trying to act like they weren’t just talking shit about him. So he’s not surprised when Santana makes some crack about homo interventions, and he’s even less surprised that Kurt lets it get under his skin.

Kurt takes that intervention shit seriously, which is stupid, but they’ve been through all this before, and it’s not like he can really blame the guy, considering. So at least part of him thinks those morons can talk Puck back out of being gay or whatever if they just try hard enough, maybe sing a song about it or something. Which would be fucking hilarious if he didn’t think they’d really go through with it.

So he spends the entire practice just talking to Kurt, leaning in to make a crack about Berry's clothes or Sam’s stupid hair or whatever, just to keep Kurt focused on him and not his girl up at the front of the room, throwing off vibes so strong Puck can feel them all the way in the back row. And there’s no way Puck’s letting Aretha and her intervention or whatever take Kurt’s focus off what happens when Puck shows up at his house later, so he makes sure the last thing Kurt does before he goes home is kiss Puck goodbye.

It means hauling ass to make it to detention on time, but it’s worth it just for the chance to walk Kurt to the parking lot and shove him up against the side of the Navigator, pressing his hands against the sides of Kurt’s face and kissing him until he’s pretty sure Kurt forgets _how_ to drive for a second or two. It takes a hell of a lot of self-control to pull himself away and go back inside, but if he blows off detention he’ll just get suspended.

So he books it through the halls and slides into a seat at the back of detention just before the teacher walks in, and he passes the time picturing the way he left Kurt, panting and dazed and leaning against his truck like he was scared to try and move.

By the time he leans on Kurt’s doorbell, he’s so hard he’s not even sure he’s going to make it past the front door before he explodes. Then the door swings open and Kurt’s there, cheeks pink and mouth kind of open and Puck doesn’t even bother to say hi before he’s sliding his arm around Kurt’s waist and pulling him forward to suck Kurt’s bottom lip between his teeth.

He figures Kurt’s dad might wander out to see who’s here and spot them, but he doesn’t even care, because he’s been thinking about this all day – scratch that, since _Saturday_ – and he’s never been any good at waiting.

Kurt’s hands are on his shoulders, then sliding up the back of his neck to push his fingers through Puck’s mohawk and he’s so completely whipped if he’s getting off on somebody touching his _hair_. But the thing is, it’s not just anybody making needy little noises and running their fingers across his scalp. It’s _Kurt_ , and it still kind of seems like he should hate Puck, so the fact that he’s backing them into his house and letting Puck kick the door shut is still pretty unbelievable.

Then Kurt’s pulling away, panting and staring at Puck’s mouth and curving his hand around the back of Puck’s head. “I’m so sorry about this.”

For a second Puck just stares at him, wondering if maybe he didn’t hear right, because Kurt sounds like he’s about to tell Puck it’s over or something. But that’s not how he kissed Puck just now, and when Puck hears a familiar voice that definitely doesn’t belong to Mr. Hummel, he sighs and closes his eyes.

“Hey, Kurt, do you have any more…oh.”

The Asian chick’s standing at the top of the basement stairs, staring all wide-eyed and kind of blinking at him every so often like she’s never seen him before. Then she breaks into this totally creepy grin and actually _giggles_ , one of those high, girlie deals that tells Puck he’s missing something.

And it’s just the Asian chick, so it’s not like it would be hard to scare her away. Puck knows Kurt hangs out with her and Brittany sometimes, working on their dance routines or whatever, so even if Brittany’s down in Kurt’s room he figures it won’t take that long to get rid of them. As long as Aretha’s not here, he’s golden, he figures. Which is exactly the moment Aretha herself appears at the top of the stairs.

“Tina, what’s the…what the hell is he doing here?”

“Me? What the fuck are _they_ doing here?” he asks, looking at Kurt and yeah, he feels like punching something, but as soon as he sees the look on Kurt’s face he wants to take it back. But it’s not like he’s going to grovel in front of fucking Aretha, so instead of saying anything he runs his thumb along Kurt’s bottom lip until he stops looking at Puck like he’s waiting for him to hit him or something.

“They just showed up an hour ago,” Kurt says, voice low so only Puck can hear, and yeah, that’s kinda not helping, because when Kurt’s voice goes all soft like that it makes Puck want to do things to him that would make a porn star blush. “They wanted to talk about costumes for the Formal performance. I was hoping they’d be gone before you got here.”

He’s about to cut his losses, to tell Kurt that yeah, he gets it, not like Kurt could just slam the door in their faces. Which is totally what Puck would have done, but whatever, the whole point of hanging out with Kurt is that he’s a better person than Puck, and he’s hoping some of that will rub off a little. So he’ll just go home and spend a little quality time with his right hand, not like he hasn’t been doing that for two weeks straight, so he’s used to it.

“Puck can help,” the Asian chick says, and when Puck looks at her again at least she’s not giggling at him like a creepy doll anymore. “Mike wanted another guy to work out some of the choreography, remember?”

“Wait, Chang’s here too?” Puck says, but it’s not like he’s surprised or anything. And seriously, fuck his _life_ , because all he wanted was a couple hours of quality makeout time with Kurt, maybe a little over-the-clothes action, and now he’s being dragged down to Kurt’s room, yeah, but instead of making out they’re having some kind of impromptu Glee rehearsal.

When they get to the basement Mike’s there, all right, humming off-key and working out some moves in the middle of Kurt’s room. He looks up and catches sight of Puck, grinning wide and fucking _waving_ before he does another spin, and this has to be the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to Puck. He keeps waiting to wake up and figure out it’s all some fucked up dream, like one of those constant loop deals where every time he tries to get Kurt alone, somebody shows up and cockblocks him.

Right now that somebody is like half the Glee club, and the sad part is he’s kind of surprised more of them aren’t there. “Isn’t Berry going to throw an axle if she finds out you guys are choreographing without her supervision?”

“Rachel’s got her own routine to worry about,” Aretha says, and now she’s not so much glaring as looking at him like he’s a total moron. “Weren’t you listening at Glee today? We picked teams. Whoever comes up with the best routine gets to perform it at the Formal.”

And no, he wasn’t listening at Glee today, because he had better things to do. Namely talking Kurt down from a seriously overwhelming urge to kill Aretha, and it’s not like Puck _blames_ him or anything, because she is being kind of a bitch about this whole thing, but the last thing they need is for Kurt to end up in detention too.

So he missed the part where they picked teams, which means he has no idea who he’s supposed to be working with, but if it’s not Kurt, he’s defecting. “Right. I need to talk to Kurt for a second.”

Kurt’s still holding his hand like he’s scared Puck might make a break for it, so it’s easy to drag him across his room, past the bathroom and through another door that Puck’s pretty sure leads into the closet. The closet he’s never seen before and doesn’t see now, because as soon as the door’s shut he’s pushing Kurt up against it and kissing him so hard their teeth sort of click together. And he has to hand it to Kurt, because he figured Kurt would push him away and tell him they can’t do this with a room full of gleeks on the other side of the door, but Kurt just grips the front of Puck’s jacket and tries to pull him even closer.

Which is physically impossible, as it turns out, so instead Puck shoves a leg between Kurt’s thighs and presses up until Kurt gasps and bucks against him. “So whose group am I in?”

“No idea,” Kurt answers, hand coming up to cradle the back of Puck’s head while Puck mouths his way along Kurt’s neck. “I don’t even know whose group _I’m_ in.”

Puck laughs against his skin, teeth dragging down the side of Kurt’s neck until Kurt shudders against him. He’s rocking against Puck’s thigh, still wearing those same jeans that have been driving Puck crazy all day, and Puck’s pretty sure that any second now Kurt’s going to come in his pants. And he’d rather Kurt not have so many fucking clothes on the first time Puck makes him come, but at least they’re in the same room, and that’s better than nothing.

He pushes a hand between them, palm flat against Kurt’s hard-on and pushing up until Kurt lets out a high, needy noise. His eyes are closed and his cheeks are flushed, rocking against Puck’s hand like he can’t stop himself, and Puck’s never seen anything hotter in his life. Just the fact that Kurt wants him bad enough to overlook all the other stuff is a total turn-on, but the fact that Kurt wants him bad enough to let Puck do this when his friends are right in the next room? That’s off the fucking charts.

Puck runs his hand along the outline of Kurt’s dick, thumb rubbing the head through Kurt’s jeans and he lets out another breathy little moan. Then Puck leans forward and presses his lips to Kurt’s again, kissing him soft before he drops to his knees. There’s a surprised little ‘oh’ above him, and Puck laughs and grips Kurt’s hips and looks up at him.

“What’d you think, I was all talk or something?”

Kurt just shakes his head like maybe he’s not sure he _can_ talk right now, and that’s just fine with Puck. He’s got an agenda here, and he’s pretty sure there’s not a lot of time before Aretha comes looking for them. So he leans in and presses his mouth to the tip of Kurt’s cock where it’s straining against his jeans, tongue pushing at the fabric until Kurt’s gasping above him and pushing against Puck’s hands where they’re holding him back against the door.

His fingers are digging into the door behind him, short nails scratching against the wood and he’s probably going to regret that later. But Puck doesn’t point it out, because he’s a little busy. He runs his mouth down the length of Kurt’s cock, and he’s not quite as big as Puck, but he’s bigger than Puck expected. Or maybe it’s just because this is the first time Puck’s been up close and personal with another guy’s dick, and he hasn’t even gotten a look at it yet.

He laughs against Kurt’s jeans and lets go of Kurt’s hips with one hand so he can cup Kurt’s balls through the fabric, nose pressed into the hollow between his dick and his balls to breathe in deep.

Kurt always smells good, like a girl. Not like any of the guys Puck knows, anyway; the guys Puck hangs out with always smell like sweat and chili dogs and _guy_. Well, lately Puck’s been smelling more like cherry slushie than anything, but that’s not the point. The point is that Kurt usually smells like Santana fresh from the shower, but when he’s turned on and Puck’s got his face pressed up against Kurt’s junk, he can smell the guy on him, even through his jeans.

He’s not sure if he should find that as hot as he does. Maybe he’ll have some kind of weird freak-out about it at some point, but they’ve been making out for a couple weeks now and he hasn’t freaked out yet, so he figures he’s probably good.

Puck breathes in one more time and mouths his way back up to the head of Kurt’s cock, closes his mouth around the fabric and tongues Kurt until he’s panting and clutching hard at Puck’s shoulder and yeah, Puck can tell how close he is. So he pulls back, just enough to admire the respectable wet spot on the front of Kurt’s pants, then he opens his mouth just above the fabric and lets out a hot breath.

Kurt shudders and squeezes his shoulder even harder, practically convulsing against Puck’s hand and he knows he could put his mouth on that spot again and suck hard and Kurt would come...well, sort of in his mouth. But he wants to watch Kurt’s face when Puck makes him come for the first time, so he sits back on his heels and reaches down to palm his own aching dick, looking up to make sure Kurt’s watching before he grips Kurt’s cock through his jeans and lets Kurt fuck his hand.

He slides his thumb across the tip of Kurt’s cock, mirroring the action on his own dick and it’s not enough to get him off, because he’s still wearing his jeans too and he hasn’t had some guy sucking him off through them. Then he pictures Kurt sucking him off and bites down hard on a moan, closing his eyes for a second to get himself back under control.

Kurt’s letting out these little stuttering breaths above him, head back against the door but his eyes are open, watching Puck’s hand moving on his dick like he can’t believe Puck’s actually going through with it. And it doesn’t even count as a first time or anything, because they’re both still wearing all their clothes, but at least it’ll give them a little relief. Take the edge off until Puck can get Kurt alone for real without all the clothes between them.

He can tell how close Kurt is by the way his hips are moving, faster and less controlled, and Puck tightens his grip and grinds out a rough, “Come on,” between his teeth, and he’s not even sure who he’s talking to, but it doesn’t really matter, because Kurt’s eyes are wide and his mouth’s open, and any second he’s going to come because of _Puck_ , and that’s when he hears it.

“Hey, Mr. Hummel. Uh...Kurt’s...I think he’s looking for...”

“Bathroom,” Mike interrupts, and thank God somebody out there knows how to play it cool, Puck thinks. He feels Kurt tense above him and tightens his grip, letting go of his own dick and standing up without ever letting go of Kurt.

Because okay, yeah, his dad’s right _there_ , but there’s no way Puck can let him go out there like this, not if he ever wants Kurt to talk to him again, so he leans in and kisses him hard and shoves his hand straight down the front of Kurt’s pants.

All it takes is Puck’s hand on the smooth, silky skin of his cock and Kurt’s coming, moaning into Puck’s mouth and pushing against his grip and it’s a good thing, because his jeans are so fucking tight Puck can’t actually move his hand once it’s in there. So he just holds on, palm pressed flat against Kurt’s dick and catching a little warm spunk on his fingers and when Kurt finally slumps against the door to gasp for breath, Puck eases his hand out of Kurt’s pants and lifts his fingers to his own mouth.

He watches Kurt watch him while he sucks his fingers between his lips, rolling the taste of Kurt on his tongue and it’s not that gross, or at least no grosser than tasting his own come. Which, come on, everybody’s done _that_ , and anyone who says they haven’t is a liar.

Kurt doesn’t taste all that much different from him, which is no big surprise, really, because come’s come. But Kurt’s eyes are wide and when Puck pulls his fingers out of his mouth Kurt’s lips part and his tongue sort of slides along the bottom of his lip on the inside, like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it.

It’s tempting to lean in and kiss him again, tempting to let Kurt do something about the hard-on still pressing against Puck’s jeans. But his dad’s still out there, and any second now he’s going to figure out that Kurt’s not in the bathroom. So Puck reaches for the front of Kurt’s jeans instead, popping the button open and sliding his zipper down, shoving them off and looking around for something to clean Kurt up with.

He starts to reach for a t-shirt, because it’s the closest thing and seriously, it’s just a t-shirt, but Kurt reaches out and closes his hand around Puck’s wrist. “Don’t you dare.”

When Puck raises an eyebrow at him Kurt flushes again and looks away, then he eases off the door and reaches into a laundry hamper Puck didn’t notice and pulls out a towel. Puck leans against the door and watches while Kurt cleans himself up and pulls on a fresh pair of pants that look almost exactly like the ones Puck just peeled off him, which explains a lot about why it seems like Kurt never wears the same outfit twice.

And it’s not like the fresh jeans help all that much, because Kurt’s cheeks are still flushed and his mouth’s kind of swollen and even though Puck never touched his hair, it’s a little wrecked in the back just from the way Kurt was pushing back against the door. So it won’t hurt to catch his hand as he heads for the closet door and pull him close, to lean in and plant one last kiss on his swollen red lips before Puck lets go and lets Kurt slip out of the closet.

When he’s gone Puck leans heavy against the door, closing his eyes and listening to Kurt make up some excuse about digging around for the perfect Ferragamo tie for the guys to wear during their routine. Which doesn’t even make any fucking sense, because he throws the word ‘vintage’ in there, as in ‘it’s old’, and he’s only got the one, so it’s not like they’re going to be able to hit the mall and pick up a couple more.

But nobody calls him on it, probably because the gleeks all know he wasn’t in his closet looking for a fucking tie, and his dad probably doesn’t know what a Ferragamo is any more than Puck does. He hears somebody mention something about ordering pizza and rolls his eyes, then he reaches down to adjust his hard-on and wonders how much shit he’d take from Schue if he bailed on the group practice he wasn’t even fucking _invited_ to, by the way, when Aretha rats him out.

Except Kurt’s still here, and even if the rest of them are here too, Puck wants to hang out with Kurt. Tomorrow, though...tomorrow they’re going to his house.

~

Football practice is more of the same, extra-hard checks and an elbow or knee thrown in for good measure when Coach isn’t looking too close. Puck gives back as good as he gets, because hell, he may be gay now or whatever, but he’s still Puck. So he takes another elbow to the ribs, feels something give a little and yeah, that’s gonna hurt later. He grunts his way through the pain and pulls his arm up hard, catching the cornerback in the nose and grinning at the satisfying crunch of bone grinding against bone as his nose breaks.

After that Coach calls practice so she can get an ambulance and the dude’s parents out to patch him up, bitching the whole time about them killing each other before the other teams even get a crack at them. And yeah, it’s just a broken nose, it’s not even going to keep the dude out of this weekend’s game, but it’s going to look pretty funny from now on, so Puck figures he’s made his point.

And here’s the thing: He’s aware that dating Kurt is turning him into a total pussy. He can’t even blame Kurt for it the way the guys on the team all blame their girlfriends, like when Finn used to claim Quinn made him hold her hand while they walked from class to class. And it would be one thing if he was getting any, but he never even rounded third base, as far as Puck knows, so that was a bullshit lie.

Fact is, Finn and the rest of them _like_ holding their girls’ hands, and the only reason Puck knows it is because he kind of digs holding Kurt’s. He spent the whole day going out of his way to do it, even, walking Kurt to his classes and kissing him goodbye, pretending he was just looking out for any stray slushies when the truth was he just wanted to hang around Kurt.

Kurt who never once reaches for Puck’s hand, not in public, anyway, and that means every time they held hands today, it was because Puck started it. And Kurt never seems to mind or anything, but he never starts it, either. Puck figures maybe it’s because Kurt’s still working on that whole trust thing, like maybe he’s expecting Puck to change his mind and shove him into a locker the first time Kurt reaches for him.

He’s too busy wondering what else he can do to convince Kurt he’s right where he wants to be to notice somebody coming up behind him. Until he feels a shoulder dig into his back, right between his shoulder blades, and he catches the edge of the locker room door hard and bites down on a yelp of pain.

Sam and Finn are already heading for the showers, and he hasn’t seen Mike since they left the field, which just figures, because they’re probably the only guys on the team besides Wheels who’d have his back, and it’s not like Artie’s going to be any help. But whatever, he’s Puck, he’s never needed backup before and he doesn’t need it now.

Instead he grips the back of Azimio’s jersey and slams him into the lockers, and when Azimio and a couple of the other guys come at him Puck stands his ground. “You want me to break your noses too? Then you can all look pretty like your boyfriend on the gurney back there.”

“Whatever, fag, that was a lucky shot,” somebody says. Karofsky, Puck thinks, but he doesn’t look, because he knows better than to turn his back on Azimio, because for kind of a short, slow dude, he’s pretty quick with the sucker punches.

“You want me to show you how lucky I can be?” Puck asks, and hell, even _he_ doesn’t know what that means, but it doesn’t matter. It’s all bullshit, and he’s known this was coming, so he’s fine with getting it over with. Except Kurt’s waiting for Puck to call and tell him practice is over, so he doesn’t really have a lot of time to waste.

“We never thought it would be you, man,” Azimio says, shaking his head like he’s disappointed or something. “Hudson, maybe, or the new kid. He’s got the mouth for it.”

Puck’s trying to decide whether to ask why Azimio’s been looking at Sam’s mouth, or defend his own cock-sucking potential when Finn appears in the door to the showers. He’s got a towel wrapped around his waist but his hair’s still dry, which means he hasn’t actually cleaned up yet.

“Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint, dude. Maybe I’m just the only one around here who’s got the balls to admit what he likes.”

Azimio’s always been an asshole, and he’s never been exactly what Puck would call a friend. They’ve gotten drunk together plenty of times, sure, they’ve smoked a little weed and done stupid shit because there’s nothing to do in Lima except stupid shit. He’s not that smart and he pretty much goes through life like it’s a football game, knocking shit out of his way just for the fun of it. So Puck’s sort of surprised that he kind of looks like he’s considering Puck’s argument, like maybe there’s something worth respecting about a dude who likes sucking cock and isn’t afraid to say so.

Before Azimio works up enough static to fire off either of his two brain cells somebody shoves Puck hard from behind, knocking him off balance and he checks his knee hard against the bench that runs in front of the lockers. By the time he rights himself and turns to face Karofsky Finn’s there, standing between them in his towel with his hands out. Like he has a prayer of holding either of them off, let alone both of them, but Puck lets him stand there anyway, because if he gets kicked out for fighting it’s back to Juvie, and it’s not like Kurt’s going to wait around for him.

“What the fuck, dude?” Finn’s saying, but he’s mostly looking at Karofsky. “If Coach catches you fighting you’re both off the team.”

Karofsky looks like he thinks it might be worth the sacrifice, but they’ve known each other a long time, and Puck knows better.

“Seriously, dude, let it go,” one of the other guys says. “So Puck’s a homo now. It’s not worth getting kicked off the team.”

“You want to play ball with that homo staring at your ass all the time?”

“Whatever, like I’d stare at your fat ass,” Puck says.

“Yeah, we’ve been playing ball with him for a long time, and I’ve never noticed him staring at anybody’s ass,” Mike says from the door, and Puck wonders vaguely when he showed up. “Coach is on the way back, you guys, so you might want to break it up.”

For a minute they all just stand there, the whole team, even the guys who were already headed for the showers when the fighting started. Then Karofsky shoves Finn’s hand away from his chest and scowls at Puck. “Fine, you fags can have each other. Just stay the fuck away from me.”

“Not a problem, dude,” Puck calls after him. His groupies follow him to the other end of the locker room, Azimio bringing up the rear and when Puck looks around to see which of the team came down on his side, he’s kind of surprised to see that about half of them are still there. Sam and Finn and Mike and Artie, sure, but a few more guys stick around too, and Puck blows out a harsh breath and sits down hard on the bench behind him.

“They’re kind of right, you know.”

Puck looks up at the sound of Mike’s voice, fixing him with a glare that probably looks pretty scary, because Mike goes sort of pale and puts his hands up in front of him. “I just meant that nobody would have guessed that you’d swing that way. I don’t think anybody even considered it.”

And Jesus, he doesn’t have time to sit around with these idiots and share their feelings and shit. He’s not really interested in explaining why he’s gay for Kurt, or why it wasn’t even as big a leap as everybody assumes. Making out with Kurt feels good -- making Kurt feel good feels good -- and Puck doesn’t see anything wrong with feeling good.

“Yeah, well, guess I’m full of surprises.”

“So were you always...I mean...”

“I haven’t been jerking off picturing you idiots in the showers all this time, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Puck says.

He wants to laugh at the look on Mike’s face, but he has a feeling at least some of them have really been worrying about that. And it’s not like he’s ever had a problem with checking out another guy for comparison’s sake or whatever, he just never felt like doing anything about it until Kurt.

“Whatever. Do you know how much sex gay dudes have? Do the math, man. It’s just good economics.”

“That’s true,” Artie pipes up, and Puck grins at that, because it figures Wheels would have his back when it came to doing the research. “Particularly younger men, and teenage boys think about sex pretty much constantly. Two teenage boys would have exponentially more sex with each other than a guy and a girl, especially since girls are conditioned by the media that their sexual urges are bad.”

It’s a little more clinical than Puck would have put it, but it gets the point across, so he doesn’t tell Artie to save it for someone who cares.

“Dude, seriously,” he says instead, looking around the room at all of them. “How often does your girl go down on you?”

“Never,” he adds when he looks at Finn, and he’s pretty sure the same goes for Sam, at least. Mike he’s not so sure about until he catches him blushing and looking away, and okay, good for the Asian chick. “And even if she does, I bet she only lasts a couple minutes and she never does it hard enough, and there’s teeth and shit and you know that’s totally distracting.”

“Look, I don’t think it’s right that those guys keep giving you shit on the field just because you’re dating a dude, but nobody wants to hear about your homo blow jobs,” their new kicker says, and Puck wonders for a second how this same conversation would have gone if Kurt was still on the team. Not that he misses the dancing, and now that they’ve got the Beiste they don’t need lame tricks to distract the other team, but still. He was a hell of a kicker.

“I didn’t say anything about my homo blow jobs. But since you mentioned it, they’re fucking awesome. Kurt sucks cock like a champ.”

Which, okay, technically he wouldn’t know, but Kurt’s good at everything, so Puck’s pretty sure Kurt will prove him right, once he actually gets around to sucking Puck’s cock. He grins at the looks on their faces, like they can’t decide whether to puke at the idea of a dude sucking their cock, or wince about the whole teeth thing.

But when he gets to Finn his grin fades, because he’s not looking all that grossed out or anything, but he does look a lot like Karofsky did a few minutes ago. Like he kind of wants to rearrange Puck’s face for him, and seriously, what the hell.

“What’s your problem?” Puck says, but Finn just shakes his head and turns toward the showers, and Puck’s sure as hell not going after him. Instead he stands up and heads for his locker, digging his phone out and hitting the speed dial that used to belong to Santana.

When Kurt picks up Puck turns to his locker and drops his voice. “Can you come over?”

“Of course,” Kurt answers, but Puck’s spent enough time obsessing about him at this point to hear the nerves in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Puck says. “I’ll meet you at my place in like twenty minutes.”

He doesn’t take the time to shower, and Kurt might bitch about it when he gets to Puck’s house, but whatever, if it bugs him that much Puck will just shower when he gets home. He pulls off his pads and puts his jeans and t-shirt back on, then he slides into his leather jacket and grabs his keys.

When he gets to his house Kurt’s Navigator is parked out front, and he pulls into the driveway and waits by the front door for Kurt to catch up. He looks a little nervous, and Puck’s not sure if it’s because of the way he sounded on the phone, or because of what happened in his closet last night, but he doesn’t ask. He doesn’t say anything, he just grabs the front of Kurt’s coat and pulls him inside.

Kurt follows him to his bedroom, and when they get there Puck shuts the door and shrugs out of his jacket. Kurt’s unwinding a scarf from around his neck, setting it carefully on Puck’s dresser before he reaches for the buttons on his coat. Puck kicks off his shoes and reaches for Kurt, pushing his hat off and tossing it in the direction of his scarf while Kurt slides out of his coat and lets it hit the floor.

Just...lets it fall, on a carpet he’s never seen before and hasn’t inspected for cleanliness or whatever. And considering he used to make it a point to take his jacket off before they tossed him in the dumpster, that seems a little out of character.

But Puck doesn’t point it out, because if he does Kurt might stop kissing him and pick it up or something, and Puck doesn’t want to let him go even for a few seconds. Instead he grips Kurt’s hips and steers them toward the bed, pushing Kurt down onto the mattress and climbing up after him to stretch out on his side and drag Kurt close.

He takes his time kissing Kurt, because he’s pretty sure the house is empty, and he doesn’t know how much time they’ve got before his mom makes an appearance, but he’s not going to rush this just because they’re on a schedule. So he keeps his hands more or less in neutral territory, and he doesn’t push his tongue past Kurt’s teeth even when he parts his lips like he’s sort of hoping Puck will.

Kurt’s hands definitely aren’t staying in neutral territory. They start out on Puck’s chest, just sort of resting there and that’s cool, because it means Puck can’t press right up against him, which makes it a little easier to take things slow. Then Kurt slides his hands down to Puck’s stomach, fingers bunching in the fabric of his shirt and pushing it up a little, just enough to let his fingers skim across the bare skin right above the top of Puck’s jeans.

And that feels pretty good, so he doesn’t complain when Kurt’s hand slides up a little further, pushing his shirt up as he goes. He’s kind of kneading at Puck’s skin, fingers digging in along his muscles, and that feels good too, right up until Kurt hits one of the bruises he picked up in practice. He tries not to flinch, but Kurt hears the hiss that escapes him and then his hand’s gone and he’s moving backwards, pushing Puck’s shirt up and staring at the weird patches of purple and black and yellow on his ribs.

“Oh my God,” he says, and Puck wants to point out that he doesn’t even believe in God, so there’s no point complaining to Him about it, but he doesn’t. Instead he sighs and rolls onto his back and lets Kurt look.

“It’s no big deal. It’s just from practice.”

“No big deal? You look...” Kurt’s voice goes a little higher, and he pauses for a second and clears his throat before he tries again. “You look like _me_.”

It takes Puck a second or two to figure out what he means, but when he does he frowns and stares down at Kurt’s chest like he’ll be able to see any bruises he’s hiding under his shirt. And if Kurt’s had bruises like this from body checks in the hall or trips to the the dumpster or whatever, then Puck figures he deserves to know how it feels. But he doesn’t say it, because he’s played football since Pee Wee League, and he got used to taking hits a long time ago, so it’s still not the same thing.

“It’s football, babe,” he says, but Kurt’s fingers are moving on him again, barely touching his bruises and sending weird little shivers through Puck’s stomach. “Kinda goes with the territory. I broke somebody’s nose today and Coach barely even blinked.”

“You what?”

“It could have been an accident,” Puck says, which is true, but it wasn’t and he doesn’t see any point pretending, at least not to Kurt. “Anyway, he had it coming after the way he checked me in the ribs.”

Kurt’s hand stops on the bruise that’s already forming, red and purple and yeah, it’s a little tender. He rests his palm there, not pressing down or anything, but Puck can feel it anyway, warm and sort of heavy against too-sensitive skin.

And this isn’t the way this is supposed to be going, so Puck sits up far enough to tug his shirt off the rest of the way, then he turns into Kurt and mouths his way along Kurt’s neck. Kurt’s hands leave his stomach to close around his biceps, and there aren’t any bruises there, at least, so he doesn’t mind when Kurt’s fingers dig into his skin.

“Puck,” Kurt says, sort of breathy and distracted, then his hands tighten even more and he says it again, louder, and Puck pulls back to look at him.

“What?”

“Don’t you think we should discuss this? Slushies are one thing, but this...”

Puck doesn’t want to discuss it. He doesn’t want to talk at all, at least not while they’ve got the house to themselves. But Kurt’s doing that thing where his lips press together in a thin line, and if he doesn’t do _something_ to reassure him or whatever, it’s going to kill the mood pretty quick.

“Look, we kind of had it out today after practice. Some of the guys were total dicks about it, but I made it pretty clear that I can still kick all their asses, no matter who I’m fucking. Anyway, I think they’ll leave it alone now.”

He’s not positive about that, but at least they know he’s not going to take that shit lying down. He’s not going to take anybody messing with Kurt anymore, either, even if it means being his personal shadow for the rest of high school.

“Not everybody on the team’s being a douche about it. Sam and Finn and Mike and Artie are all cool, mostly, and some of the other guys were okay with it once I explained that this is how it’s going to be now.”

“Really?” Kurt says, and Puck doesn’t really blame him, because he’s not even sure he believes it. “What did you say, exactly?”

He’s got those bright pink spots in the center of his cheeks again, like he’s kind of embarrassed by this whole conversation, but sort of turned on at the same time. And it just figures Kurt’s got some kind of hero kink, but Puck doesn’t laugh at him. Instead he grins and pushes Kurt down onto the mattress, then he pushes one leg between Kurt’s and leans in to open his mouth on the soft skin just below Kurt’s ear.

“I told them the truth, babe. That I was dating you for all the sex.”

This time he does laugh, right up against Kurt’s mouth before he kisses him. And for awhile Kurt lets him, lips parting to let Puck in and his hands coming up to slide across Puck’s back. Kurt’s hips are moving in a slow rhythm, dick pressed against Puck’s leg where it’s pushing his thighs apart and just rocking against him.

He pulls back far enough to look, to take in the way Kurt’s skin flushes and the way he can’t stop moving his hips, almost like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. Except then Kurt pushes a hand between them to flatten his hand against Puck’s dick, and okay, maybe he does know what he’s doing.

“Funny,” Kurt says, and his voice sounds kind of weird, like he’s having trouble catching his breath. “Until yesterday I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to put out.”

“I told you, I’m trying to do this thing right for once. You only gave me one chance, remember?”

Kurt makes a little ‘hmm’ noise in the back of his throat, and his hand’s still pressed against Puck’s dick, not hard enough to end things before they get started, but hard enough for Puck to know he’s there. His other hand comes up to rest against Puck’s cheek, just looking for a second, and all of a sudden Puck’s skin feels too tight.

“I think you’ve earned another chance. Not that I think you’ll need it, but just in case.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely,” Kurt says, his grip on Puck’s dick tightening a little, and Puck groans and grinds down into his hand.

“Good. Because there’s something else I should probably tell you.” Kurt tenses under him, but he doesn’t pull away or anything, so Puck decides to take that as a good sign. “I...uh...I might have told some of the guys that you give really good head.”

“You...” Kurt’s hand does leave his dick then, but he’s still pretty much trapped under Puck. Not that Puck wouldn’t let him up if he wanted a little distance, but he’s pretty damn relieved all the same when Kurt doesn’t try to push him off. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“I was just making a point,” Puck says, and he knows that’s not an answer, but he’s not even sure he can explain it. “I wanted Hudson and the rest of them to stop looking at me like there’s something wrong with me for going gay or whatever. I wanted them to know that you’re awesome, and I’m just glad I figured it out before some other dude got there ahead of me.”

Kurt’s been turning pretty steadily red since Puck started talking, and by the time he finishes Kurt’s roughly the color of his Cheerios uniform. But he’s still not pushing Puck away, which means he can’t be _that_ mad.

“You know that I’ve never...I mean, it’s not as though I haven’t thought about it, obviously. But there’s a difference between fantasy and practical experience, and until recently I assumed there weren’t even any bi-curious guys at our school.”

And now he’s just babbling, so Puck leans in and presses their mouths together, just to get Kurt to stop talking. When he finally relaxes into the kiss Puck pulls back to take in a pair of wet, swollen cock-sucking lips.

“Trust me, babe. You’re gonna be great at it.”

No pressure or anything,” Kurt mumbles, and Puck has to work pretty hard not to laugh, because it’s not like he’s ever sucked anybody’s dick before either. But he’s had his dick sucked, and he knows what works for him and what doesn’t, so maybe if he shows Kurt some of that he’ll feel a little better about giving it a try.

He reaches between them and tugs Kurt’s pants open, watching Kurt’s eyes go wide as he slips a hand inside and closes it around Kurt’s dick. That gets him a gasp and a hard thrust of Kurt’s hips, and when Puck slides his thumb over the tip of Kurt’s cock he bites down hard on his lip and closes his eyes.

And he’s already done this once -- sort of, anyway -- so he figures it’s no big deal. It’s easy enough to straddle Kurt’s knees and drag his pants down his hips, stopping when they’re around his thighs and looking up to find Kurt watching him. He looks kind of scared and _really_ turned on, and the combination is hot in a way Puck didn’t expect.

He grins and leans over Kurt, wrapping a hand around his dick and stroking a few times. It’s the first time he’s gotten a look at Kurt’s dick, hard or otherwise, so he takes his time learning the shape of it, the way it feels in his hand and how it responds when he twists his grip a little.

Kurt’s hips are moving again, lips parted and breathing heavy and fucking into the loose circle of Puck’s fist. His hands are clutching at Puck’s comforter, white-knuckling the fabric until Puck wonders if he’ll leave a hole behind. And he kind of hopes Kurt does, because then he’ll be able to look at it later and remember the moment when he leans in and wraps his lips around Kurt’s cock for the first time.

Kurt gasps and bucks up and Puck’s not ready for it, so he chokes and pulls off, hand still wrapped around Kurt’s dick while he laughs. He leans up to kiss the seriously embarrassed look off Kurt’s face, still working his dick until he relaxes again and picks up the rhythm of Puck’s hand.

When Kurt’s moaning and rocking into Puck’s grip again he sits up, pressing his free hand to Kurt’s hips this time to hold him down. Then he gets back to the business of sucking Kurt’s cock, working his mouth as far down as he can get before he has to pull up to breathe again. And he knows there’s a trick to getting even deeper, but he figures he doesn’t need to worry about it his first time out of the gate.

So he keeps working Kurt with his hand while he focuses most of his attention on the sensitive head, tongue catching the bitter-salt taste oozing from the tip and then flattening against the vein on the underside and licking his way back up again. Kurt’s eyes are closed and he’s gripping the covers, fighting the urge to thrust up into wet heat and Puck appreciates it and all, but he wants to watch Kurt come undone.

So he pulls his mouth off Kurt’s dick to suck his balls between his lips one by one, then he works his way lower to flatten his tongue against the taut skin just behind Kurt’s balls. He feels Kurt kind of tense above him and figures he’s expecting Puck to push for more, maybe to tongue his way inside Kurt on their first time out of the gate.

As soon as he thinks it his cock twitches, and suddenly he wants to fuck Kurt with his tongue more than he’s ever wanted anything. Which is kind of weird, because that’s never really been his thing. Only he never even knew what his thing was until he started dating Kurt, and now that he does, he mostly just wants to do whatever makes Kurt feel good.

But he’s still got his pants on, so there’s barely enough room to get at his balls, let alone his ass. Puck licks a hot stripe up the back of Kurt’s cock instead, then he sucks the head back into his mouth and slides his lips as far down Kurt as he can get. He’s fisting Kurt hard while he sucks, careful to keep his teeth out of the equation and okay, that’s a little harder than he figured it would be, but he’s pretty sure he pulls it off.

Kurt’s not complaining, at any rate, and when he hears the way Kurt’s breath hitches Puck figures he’s getting close. The only warning he gets is a hand covering his where it’s still holding Kurt’s hips down, Kurt’s fingers kind of tugging at him like he can’t find the words to say that he’s about to lose it.

Puck thinks about pulling off and finishing Kurt with his hand, but he’s sort of curious, so instead he pulls back until just the head of Kurt’s dick is resting on his tongue and lets Kurt come in his mouth. It doesn’t taste awesome or anything, but it’s not like he ends up with a huge mouthful of come, so Puck pulls off and swallows and wipes a hand across the back of his mouth.

He’s still kneeling on either side of Kurt’s thighs, and he straightens up and watches Kurt panting with the effort to catch his breath. His eyes are still closed and he’s all flushed and red, still totally dressed except for where his pants are pulled down around his thighs. He looks...really slutty, Puck decides, and it’s a seriously good look for him.

Puck laughs and leans in again, opening his mouth against Kurt’s neck to suck hard at the skin just above his collar. Marking Kurt where people will see, and he doesn’t really give a damn who sees it. Kurt doesn’t seem to, either, at least if the way he cranes his neck and reaches up to cradle the back of Puck’s head is anything to go by.

He’s pulling back to survey his work when he hears the front door open, and god _damn_ , have they got bad timing, because this is the second day in a row somebody’s interrupted before Puck gets off.

“Is the door locked?” Kurt asks, and Puck sighs and buries his face in Kurt’s neck for a second.

“No. My mom had the lock taken out when Quinn moved in. Like we were even talking at that point, so it’s not like we were in here fucking, even if I could knock her up twice.”

He can hear his mom talking, voice rising with each word and that means she’s pissed about something. Puck listens for a minute, but when he hears his sister start in he figures out what they’re fighting about. Which means they won’t come looking for him before they get a chance to pull themselves together, at least, and Puck presses one last kiss to the mark on Kurt’s neck and sits up.

Kurt slides off the bed, back to Puck as he hikes his pants back up and tucks himself in. Puck watches Kurt’s ass disappear with a sigh, tries not to think of all the things he’d like to do to Kurt and his ass, and fails pretty miserably. He’s reaching for his shirt when Kurt’s hand closes around his wrist, and Puck looks up to find Kurt watching him.

“What are they yelling about?”

Puck shrugs and lets Kurt pull him to his feet. “Sounds like my sister failed another test or something. They’ve been yelling about her grades all semester.”

Kurt’s hands are on his hips while Puck talks, backing him up and when his shoulders collide with something solid he looks up and realizes he’s leaning against his door.

“How long do you think they’ll keep fighting?”

“Hard to say,” Puck answers, voice catching a little as he watches Kurt drop to his knees. “Could be awhile.”

“Good,” is all Kurt says, and he’s blushing again, two bright stripes of pink high along his cheekbones. But he looks determined, too, and when he unzips Puck’s jeans and lets his cock out Kurt looks up at him. “That should give us enough time to test your theory.”

It’s not like Kurt’s a natural or anything, Puck thinks as he leans hard against the door, one hand flexing in Kurt’s hair and the other digging into the wood in an effort to keep himself from thrusting into the wet heat of Kurt’s mouth. He’s a goer, though, working his lips and his tongue and his hand on Puck’s dick like he’s auditioning for the same part as Berry and he’s determined not to let her beat him out this time.

Puck laughs at the thought and spreads his legs a little wider, pushing his jeans farther down his hips so Kurt can push a hand inside and cup his balls. And that feels fantastic, especially when Kurt kind of tugs at them, not hard enough to hurt or anything, but it’s distracting enough to keep Puck from shooting his load before he’s ready.

He can hear his mom still bitching from across the house, then he hears a door slam and figures his sister’s either sulking in her room, or she took off to hide out at a friend's house. He sure as hell hopes it’s door number one, because if his sister’s gone his mom’s going to come looking for somebody else to bitch at.

Kurt’s hand pushes past his balls, fingers pressing the spot right behind them and Puck grunts and does his best not to thrust into Kurt’s mouth. His fingers tighten in Kurt’s hair for a second, but he catches himself and loosens his grip before he ruins the mood.

Distantly he hears his mom talking again and figures she’s on the phone, maybe bitching to his Nana about how useless her kids are. At least it’ll keep her busy for awhile, he figures, and he turns his attention back to Kurt. His jaw has to be getting sore by now, but instead of giving up and opting for a quick hand job like pretty much every other Cheerio who’s tried their hand at blowing him, Kurt pulls his mouth off Puck’s dick and presses his lips to the side of it, sort of kissing his way down and then back up again.

When he reaches the head he purses his lips around it and tongues Puck’s slit, which is kind of gross and totally hot and Puck hears himself murmur _Jesus_ and _Kurt_ and he doesn’t even care what he sounds like, because Kurt’s laughing against his dick and stretching his mouth around Puck again and okay, so maybe he is a natural.

Either that or he’s watched a _lot_ of internet porn, and Puck’s going to have to remember to ask for some recommendations, just as soon as Kurt stops sucking his brain out through his dick.

He feels the familiar pressure building in the pit of his stomach and pushes his hand through Kurt’s hair, fingers tracing the curve of his ear and down, pressing against the mark he left on Kurt’s neck.

“Babe, I’m gonna come,” he says, then he opens his eyes to watch Kurt slide his mouth off Puck’s dick with a totally pornographic slurp. There’s spit and probably a little come stuck to his lip, and he watches Kurt’s tongue slide out to catch it as he fists Puck’s dick hard and fast. Rough, exactly the way Puck likes it, the way he could never get any of the girls he fucked to do it.

So it turns out there’s a lot to be said for doing another guy, he thinks, but his laugh comes out in a sort of choked moan as he thrusts up hard into Kurt’s hand and comes on Kurt’s fingers and his own stomach.

He’s had his dick sucked by plenty of chicks, and it never bothered him one way or another whether they wanted to pull off before the big moment. He doesn’t care much about spitting or swallowing, as long as he gets off. So it doesn’t really bother him that Kurt doesn’t let Puck come in his mouth; he just figures that’s not Kurt’s thing. Only when he looks down Kurt’s looking right back at him, cheeks bright and eyes dark and blown and sucking Puck’s come off his fingers.

It’s pretty fucking hot, and when he realizes that Kurt pulled off so he could watch Puck come, it gets even hotter. He doesn’t bother cleaning up before he’s sliding to the floor, pulling Kurt forward for a hard kiss and probably messing up his shirt in the process. If Kurt notices he doesn’t complain, but chances are he just hasn’t thought of it yet, and Puck likes the fact that he can turn Kurt on so much that he forgets to worry about his precious wardrobe for a minute.

He wants to push Kurt back down on the floor and crawl over him, wants to peel off his clothes and start all over again, because he’s made Kurt come twice now, and he’s had Kurt’s mouth on his dick, but he still hasn’t seen Kurt naked. But his mom’s not talking anymore, which means any minute now she’s going to come looking for him, and if she finds him doing a guy on her carpet...truth is he’s not sure how she’ll react.

She might just be grateful he can’t knock Kurt up, or else she’ll assume Juvie turned him gay and blame herself and make him go to Temple twice a week instead of just on Saturdays. It could go either way, but it’ll probably go a lot better if she doesn’t find out by walking in on him with his ass hanging out of his jeans and Kurt’s tongue in his mouth. Puck laughs and pulls them both to their feet, then he lets go of Kurt long enough to tug his jeans back up.

“That was fucking awesome,” he says, and when Kurt smiles at him Puck’s stomach starts doing, like, backflips and shit.

He’s sweaty and he kind of reeks from practice, but Kurt hasn’t complained once, and that’s just another check in the pro column, as far as he’s concerned. Because if dating a guy means he doesn’t have to do a pit check every time he goes in for a kiss, he’s never dating another chick again.

They’re still grinning at each other like total morons when his mom finally knocks on the door, and Puck reaches for his shirt where it’s still bunched up on the bed and tugs it back on as she opens it without waiting for an answer.

“Hey, Ma,” he says, smoothing his shirt down over his abs like it’s no big deal to stand around his room half-naked with another guy. And it never used to be, but that was before Kurt.

She frowns at him for a second, then her gaze slides over to Kurt and Puck can tell her weird Mom spidey senses are kicking in. But it’s not like she can prove anything, so whatever. “This is Kurt. We’re in Glee together.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Puckerman,” Kurt says, giving her that tight-lipped smile he usually busts out for teachers and parents. And it’s weird that Puck’s watched him enough to know that about him, but they’ve known each other a long time, even if they didn’t hang out, so maybe he’s been paying more attention than he realized.

“Hello, Kurt,” she says, and Puck sees her relax a little, which means she’s probably thinking Kurt’s a polite young man, and it’s nice that Puck finally brought home somebody who’s not a total delinquent. “Noah, dinner’s almost ready. Is your friend staying?”

“I can’t,” Kurt says before Puck has a chance to say ‘yes’. He raises an eyebrow at Kurt, but Kurt just blushes again and looks around for his coat. “I promised my dad I’d be home early. He hasn’t been well lately.”

And Puck doesn’t want him to leave or anything, but it turns out that’s pretty much exactly the right thing to say to his mom. She’s already tutting and fussing about poor Kurt and his poor, sick dad, then she says something about chicken soup and ditches them for the kitchen. Puck figures he’s got maybe five minutes before she’s back with half the contents of the freezer, so he swings the door shut behind her and pulls Kurt close.

“You could stay,” he says, leaning in to mouth his way down Kurt’s jaw while Kurt buttons his coat.

“I really did promise my dad,” Kurt answers, but he doesn’t sound much like he wants to leave, and that’s good enough for Puck.

He lets Kurt pull out of his grip and wrap his scarf around his neck, hiding the mark Puck left on his skin and yeah, he’s probably going to be kind of pissed when he sees how hard it’s going to be to hide from his dad, but it’s worth it to know he’ll be walking around school with it for the rest of the week.

Once he pulls his hat back on Puck grabs the front of his coat and pulls him close again, leaning in for one last kiss before he lets Kurt go. They make it almost to the front door before Puck’s mom finds them, and sure enough, she’s carrying two shopping bags full of Tupperware containers.

Puck rolls his eyes, but she’s too busy, like, melting and shit over Kurt’s polite thank yous and assurances that his father’s going to be magically healed by her matzo ball soup or whatever to notice. And Puck has to hand it to him; he’s playing her like a goddamn violin. He’s glad he said goodbye back in his room, because his mom doesn’t let him get a word in edgewise while she’s ushering Kurt out the door and making him promise to come back for more when he runs out of soup. Which won’t happen until sometime next century, Puck’s pretty sure, but whatever.

When Kurt’s gone he mumbles something about a quick shower before dinner and heads back to his room to pull off his clothes. He wraps a towel around his waist and grabs a clean pair of sweats and a t-shirt, and he’s almost to the door when he hears his phone beep.

Puck sets his clothes down on the bed and picks up his phone off the nightstand, grinning at the alert that tells him he has a new text message from Kurt. He presses a button and reads the message, grinning even harder and he’s really glad there’s no one around to see him, or what’s left of his rep would be, like, obliterated.

_We’re still on for Thursday, right?_

He pictures Kurt’s mouth, red and wide and wrapped around his dick. Pictures Kurt’s chest flushing as he strains up against Puck, pictures getting him out of his clothes and spreading him out on that big bed of his where they can take their time and grips his phone so hard he hears the plastic creak.

 _Hell, yeah,_ he types, then he hits send and heads to the bathroom for a cold shower.


End file.
